Cooper's Gold
by TheFriendlyStranger
Summary: (Set during events of movie! Oc/Oc pairing.) Elijah Cooper, partner to Dr. King Schultz and Django, sets out on a journey to rescue Django's wife for a sense of redemption for things in his past. Grace Candie, adoptive daughter to Calvin Candie, wants nothing more than to leave the dark luxuries of Candieland. She finds her chance when she meets Elijah, Schultz, and Django.
1. Chapter 1

**This here is my first go at a Django Unchained fanfiction. Credit for this idea goes to Superfan44, and I am just attempting to bring his challenge/idea to life. I'll also apologize for how close this chapter follows script, though I couldn't find the direct movie script or clips long enough to show the whole scene, so it might not be exact in the parts where I didn't directly change the dialogue and actions.**

**Warning: Due to the film's language and how close this fic will be following the movie at some points, the N-word will be used. I am simply using it for Canon, I do not in any way, shape, or form like the word, nor do I use it outside of this fic. I am willing to bump ratings if it bothers enough people, but for now I am putting this as fair warning. **

* * *

**Cooper's Gold**

**...**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Mud was a beautiful horse, Elijah knew so. The animal was well built, his coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around his under belly and legs. Yes, Elijah liked the horse and felt slightly bad that he wasn't able to give the animal a more creative name. Mud. Yet, in a way, the name grew on him.

Regardless, Mud was an old horse, and Elijah could almost feel the frustration from the animal he rode on. The sun had disappeared for the night, darkness clung tightly to the trees and area around Elijah. He could hear the wheels of the waggon only a few feet in front of him, Elijah wanting to be closer to it and the lantern that swayed with each bump.

Yet, Mud could only keep up a good trot for a few moments until he would give up with a snort and fall back to a slower trot that allowed King to gain some distance from Elijah and his tired horse. With a light growl, Elijah dig his heels into the sides of his horse, the animal letting out some protest as he closed the distance between King's cart and Elijah.

"Schultz," Elijah called out, making the older man peer around the cart towards him, "I don't think my horse is going to take much more of this."

"Ah, well I hope he will be able to continue on, as I believe we are closing in on the Speck brothers," King said, looking out ahead of him once again as Elijah managed to keep his horse along side the cart.

"And you believe that they might have a slave from the Carrucan Plantation with em'?"

"I believe they do, though I can't say for certain that the mentioned slave will have knowledge of the Brittle brothers."

Elijah nodded his head, Mud letting out a frustrated snort as he slowed his pace slightly. Elijah placed his hand on the horse's neck, as if the gesture would be enough to keep the animal going.

Eventually, after a couple more minutes of riding through the dark, Elijah spotted something shiny behind one of the trees. He frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly as the object revealed itself to be the light from a lantern.

"Is that them?" he asked, glancing down at King. The older man lifted his head higher, a grin passing his face.

"I believe so," he glanced up at him, "now, allow me to do the talking. If things get hostile, I suspect that you will have my back?"

"I always do, Schultz."

King nodded his head, the two riding towards the slavers at a somewhat leisurely pace, Elijah adjusting the hat on his head with one hand as he started to see the figure of the two men and the slaves behind them. He frowned at the sight, though not quite phased by the sight. He had seen slaves all his life, though didn't harbour any ill feeling towards them. If anything, he felt a little bit of guilt. Still, Elijah would protect them for the sake of information if it came down to it.

It didn't take long before one of the Speck brothers noticed the two, Elijah's hand drifting down towards his pistol hidden under his blazer.

"Who's that stumblin' around in the dark?" one of the Speck brothers called out towards them, "state yer business or prepared to get winged!"

"Calm yourselves, gentlemen," King called out in a soothing voice, pulling his cart to a stop, "we mean you no harm. I am Dr. King Schultz, and this is my horse, Fritz," Fritz bowed his head in greeting upon hearing his name, "and the man beside me is Elijah Cooper and his horse, Mud."

"What kind of doctor?" one of the brother's asked, Elijah taking notice of his hand on his gun. Elijah felt the need to have his hand on the pistol at his side as well, but decided that he would just draw attention to himself.

"A dentist," King answered simply, "now, are you the Speck brothers? Did you purchase those men at the Greenville slave auction?"

"So what?"

"So...I wish to parley with you."

"Speak English."

King let out a chuckle, "I apologize, it is a second language. Now, amongst your inventory I am lead to believe that you have a specimen I am keen to acquire," King stood up on his cart to address the slaves that stood, chained, behind the Speck brothers, "hello you poor devils! Is there someone amongst you who was formally a resident of the Carrucan Plantation?"

Elijah continued to remain silent, sitting atop his horse as one of the Speck brothers kept glancing over at him. He could sense a building hostility, though with the way things seemed to be doing, Elijah hoped that they would be able to get this slave and continue on without much of a fight.

"I'm from the Carrucan Plantation," one of the slaves called out, rather quietly. King hopped down from his cart, grabbing the lantern as he started to walk forward.

"Who said that?" he asked, walking up to the line of slaves, holding his lantern up to the faces of the ones he passed before he paused before one of them.

"What is your name?" he asked, the man in front of him pausing before answering.

"Django."

"Then you are exactly the one I am looking for," King said, "do you know who the Brittle Brothers are?"

Django nodded his head, "Big John, Ellis, Roger- sometimes they call him Lil Raj. They was the overseers of the Carrucan Plantation."

"Not anymore," Schultz said, "tell me, if you were to see those three gentlemen again, would you be able to recognize them?"

"Hey!" one of the Speck brothers called out, interrupting Django and King's conversation, "stop talkin' to him like that."

"Like what?" King asked, turning to look over at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Like _that_."

"My good man, I am simply trying to ascertain-" King started, being interrupted once again.

"Speak English, God damn it!"

Elijah's hand drifted under his jacket, gripping his pistol as he prepared himself to shoot if he had to. Schultz seemed to have noticed that as well, giving Elijah a look as he seemed to address both him and the Speck brothers.

"Everybody _calm down_," he stressed, holding his hands up slightly, "I am simply a customer trying to conduct a transaction."

"I don't care," one of the brothers stated, Elijah's hand still on his pistol, "no sale. Now, off with ya."

"What do you mean, of course they are for sale."

"Move it!" Elijah noticed the man raised his rifle towards King, Elijah removing his pistol from its holster, pointing it towards the other brother, who was also focused on King. He wondered if he should keep one alive, seeing as they may need to speak with one of them.

With a slightly saddened expression, he lowered his pistol towards the head of the man's horse instead.

"Now," King said, raising his hands once again as he found himself facing the barrel of the rifle, "have you simply gotten carried away with your dramatic gesture, or are you pointing that rifle at me with lethal intention?"

"Last chance, fancy pants," the rifle barer growled, Elijah pulling the hammer of his pistol back with a click. The Speck brother that wasn't addressing King, started to turn himself around at the sound.

"Oh, very well," King said with a disappointment, dropping his lantern quickly and whipped out his pistol, two shots ringing out quickly as King shot the man in front of him, and Elijah shot the horse out from under the other.

The horse collapsed onto the ground, crushing the remaining brother's leg under its dead weight. He let out a yawl of pain as Elijah hopped down from his own horse, glancing towards King as he walked towards the remaining brother.

"Nice shot, Elijah," King said, the younger man giving him a slight frown.

"I don't like shootin' horses."

"Yes, of course," King said quickly, glancing down at the yelling man under his dead horse, "now, I am sorry my associate had to shoot your beast, but we had to do something so you wouldn't do anything rash before coming to your senses."

"You sons of bitches, you shot Roscoe! You killed Ace!"

"I only shot your brother once he threatened me, and Elijah acted accordingly because his life was threatened as well," King said, "I do believe that I have..." King turned and started to count out the slaves standing behind them, "one, two, three, four, five witnesses that can attest to that fact."

"You busted my leg!"

"Won't be the only thing busted if you don't stop your yellin' and bitchin'," Elijah stated, "your already adding to my headache."

"Fuck you!"

"Now, now," King said, stepping in, "please, do not mind Elijah here, he has had a long day. Now, if you could keep your caterwauling down to a minimum, I would like to continue my conversation with young Django here."

"I'll keep him quiet," Elijah muttered, the remaining Speck brother letting out a loud yell and cursed the both of them as King walked back towards Django. Elijah let out a growl, giving a swift kick to the side of the pinned man's head.

King turned to glance back towards them for a few moments once he reached Django again before turning to the slave, "now, as I was saying, if you were to see the Brittle Brothers again, you would be able to recognize them?"

"Yes," Django answered.

"Sold American!" King exclaimed, turning back towards the other two men, "so, Mr. Speck, how much for Django here?"

"Go to Hell!" he exclaimed.

"Don't be silly. How much for Django?"

"Eight hundred dollars!"

"Oh, come now, I may not have much experience in the slave trade, but I wasn't born yesterday," Schultz said, he glanced at Elijah, "Elijah, you seem to be more educated on such things. Tell me, what do you think is a reasonable price for Django?"

Elijah glanced over towards Django, studying him for a few moments before glancing back at King, "I'd say about two hundred and...twenty-five dollars."

"Great, thank you Elijah," King said, then glanced down at the man under the horse, "I'd also like to purchase your brother's nag, seeing as he won't be needing it anymore. Now, as for a bill of sale..."

King walked towards the remaining horse, digging around in the sacks and bags that hung off the saddle before he pulled out a pad of paper. "Oh, Elijah, will you unshackle Django there while I finish this? I believe the key should be on Ace's person."

Elijah walked towards the body of Ace, bending down and started to dig through the dead man's jacket before gripping something metallic. He pulled it out, the keys jingling as he picked up a lantern and walked towards the slaves.

He felt his heart squeeze slightly with guilt as he took in the condition of the slaves, noticing some of them shivering in the cold air and the shackles bound to their ankles. Elijah walked towards Django, taking a moment to look at the man before he started to unlock the the shackles around his hands and feet.

"I know you," Django said, his voice still soft, but held some sort of hardness to it. Elijah glanced up at him, a small smile crossing his face.

"That is unfortunate," he said, "as I am sure I was a different man back when you first saw me. Though, I am not that man, I never was. Now, I would go get Speck's jacket while Schultz finishes up here."

Elijah turned on his heel and walked back towards his horse, not noticing Django's suspicious gaze as he watched the man return to the horse that stood by the cart.

"That is Django with a silent D, right?" Schultz asked, glancing towards the unshackled man as he walked towards the dead Speck brother.

"Huh?"

"Don't you dare touch my brother!" the remaining Speck yelled out towards Django, who paused before the dead Speck. Slowly, he started to walk back towards the other brother, standing above him for a few moments before he stomped his foot down on the horse, adding pressure to Speck's already broken leg as he let out a loud and painful cry before Django lifted his foot off and grabbed Ace's coat, walking over to the only unoccupied horse left.

Elijah strode past him on his horse, lantern held out in front of him as Schultz climbed back up onto his waggon. He rode towards the remaining slaves, stopping beside them.

"Now, for you poor devils," he said, tossing the key towards one of them, "now, as I see it, you have two choices. The first being that you lift that beast off that man over there and carry him to the nearest town, which is thirty seven miles back the way you came. The second being that you unshackle yourselves, pick up that rifle there," King pointed towards the rifle in the hands of the slave he had asked to hold it when he was talking with Django, "you put a bullet in his head, bury him deep enough, and make your way towards a more enlightened part of the country. The choice is yours."

King started to pull on the reigns on his horse, but paused and added, "oh, and if there's any astronomy aficionados amongst you, the North Star is _that _one," King said, pointing towards the brightest star in the sky, "Ta ta."

His cart jerked forward, King seeing Elijah riding off ahead of them quite a bit. The lantern that he carried with them seemed to be getting dimmer with his distance.

"Elijah!" King called out to him, raising his hand once the man turned to glance back at him, "would you be so kind as to share some of that light with us?"

Elijah let out a small sigh, pulling Mud to a stop as he waited for King and Django to catch up. He muttered an apology to his friend as he started to ride alongside the cart.

He could only hope that sleep would be the next destination King had in mind.

He didn't feel like dealing with more slavers and shooting any more horses.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am sorry for the long wait for this chapter. The format of this will be that we will be switching between Elijah and Grace every chapter or so. I'm also going to see about updating this quicker than I have been. Anyway, here is the second chapter and I hope you all enjoy it.**

******Warning: Due to the film's language and how close this fic will be following the movie at some points, the N-word will be used. I am simply using it for Canon. I do not in any way, shape, or form like the word, nor do I use it outside of this fic. I am willing to bump ratings if it bothers enough people, but for now I am putting this as fair warning. **

* * *

**Cooper's Gold**

**...**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

She wanted to say that she was indifferent to it all.

That being raised from a young age on a plantation; no _Candieland_, would have left her believing that seeing the slaves being mistreated was normal. That was not the case for Grace, she felt a sense of guilt at seeing the scared expressions on some of the house slaves faces, or to see just how trapped they were. It just reminded her of how trapped she was, leading the life of a plantation owner's daughter, who was expected to smile politely and be...happy.

To be honest, she was surprised nobody questioned her relation to her father, Calvin Candie. There was no family resemblance between the two of them. Calvin had dark brown hair, his sister, the woman Grace was forced to call her aunt, had curly blonde hair. Then, there was grace, dark red hair and striking green eyes. Still, nobody questioned it and Calvin was all to happy to keep the facade that she was of his own blood, the idea alone making Grace's skin crawl slightly.

He was her adoptive father, something Grace was all to happy to remind him of during her early teenage years, but she started to just tell him what he wanted to hear after being at the receiving end of his anger. Pissing him off was something she didn't like doing anymore, not after the incident with the stairs and receiving a few slaps to the face, ones that left rather ugly bruises sometimes.

...She needed to leave.

"Are you even listenin' to me?"

The slightly sharp voice of her "aunt" Lara broke Grace's thought train, her eyes moving away from the front gates of Candieland and back towards her. Her and Lara sat at a table, an untouched cup of tea sitting in front of her while Lara held her's in her hands, a concerned look on her face.

"I apologize," Grace said quickly, folding her hands in her lap as she turned her gaze on Lara, "there is a lot on my mind."

"Well, Darlin', do share," Lara said, giving her a smile, "we are family here."

"Right..." Grace whispered to herself, reaching out to pick up her cup of tea, her fingers lingering on the handle of the cup for a few moments, clearing her throat as she continued, "I am just a little nervous about seeing Cal- I mean, Papa today."

"Oh, you're still stressin' about your little tiff? That was a week ago, Gracie, I am sure Calvin has forgotten all about it by now. If anythin', he will probably be thrilled to see you again."

"I guess so," Grace muttered, taking a few sips from the now cold tea.

The little "tiff" that she had with Calvin wasn't little by any means. Grace usually had a hold on her words, choosing to bite them back and bottle them in. Now that she thought about it, that was probably the issue. There was so much she wanted to say, yet stayed silent and kept building on them until she couldn't take it anymore.

A week before Calvin left for business, Grace had found out that he sold a slave that had been a personal helper to her for a very long time. The woman had been like a mother figure to her, someone she grew close with, and when she found out like she had been sold off like an object...she just snapped. Words flew, she even got close to striking Calvin, but he got to her first.

It was a few days before the bruise started to fade from her cheek in the slightest, which left her with more powder on her face than what she was used to, her cheek still tender to the touch.

It was the hardest slap she had ever received.

"If you didn't rile him so, he wouldn't need to punish you so much," Lara said, her blue eyes locked on her own. Grace felt some irritation at the remark, how she viewed her as being the one to always make Calvin angry, like she wanted to be slapped or threatened.

"You're right, Lara," Grace said, trying to keep up her indifferent tone that she usually used, but a biting tone managed to slip out, "I really should be more careful."

The southern belle in front of her just turned her head away thoughtfully towards the gates, Grace watching her with mild interest. She never really understood why Lara was always so...excited to see Calvin after he has been away. If anything, Grace looked forward to the times he was away, she took those times to gather herself again after a fallout.

She played with the handle on her tea cup thoughtfully, waiting for Lara to dismiss her yet again.

Grace had always hated tea.

* * *

It was a little past mid-day when Calvin returned back home, Grace standing dutifully beside Lara as he greeted the both of them with a happy and overly excited shout. It was the normal greeting they got when he returned, Calvin greeting Lara with a peck on the lips that made Grace a tad uncomfortable. She forced herself to give him a beaming smile when he approached her, one that made her cheek burn slightly, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Ah, a sight for tired eyes, as always," Calvin said with a grin, showing off his disgusting teeth, placing a hand on Lara's cheek and turned towards Grace, "I want to have a chat with you, Gracie."

"Of course, Papa," Grace said, glancing towards Lara as she smiled and left after saying a few words to Calvin. Grace tried not to tense when she felt Calvin's hand on her back, leading her towards his study.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" he asked, glancing down at her as Grace shook her head.

"No, aside from more etiquette lessons from Aunt Lara," Grace said softly, stopping inside Calvin's study as he took a thoughtful drag from his cigarette. She watched as he blew the smoke out of his mouth, the smell of smoke making her want to crinkle her nose.

"Oh? What is she teachin' you now?"

Grace held her pinkie up, a small grin crossing her face, "tea party etiquette. We are supposed to have a small one every day, just me and her."

"You two could use some more bonding anyway," Calvin said, sitting down on one of the couches of his study, gesturing that she sit beside him, "Bless her, but I do believe that she needs some more company."

Grace only nodded wordlessly, sitting down beside him, though she tried to sit as far away as she could without it being too noticeable. To be honest, she could care less about Lara and had no interest in getting to know the woman better, but she forced herself to go in case Calvin decided that he would be offended if she didn't.

She jumped when she felt Calvin prod at her cheek with his free hand, his expression slightly serious as she rubbed the powder from his fingers, cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. Grace narrowed her eyes slightly at the action, trying not to move farther away from him.

"That left quite the mark, didn't it?" Calvin asked, "still sore, from the looks of it. I do apologize for hittin' you so hard, though it makes you think twice about talkin' back to me, don't it?"

Grace watched as Calvin took a drag from the cigarette, her hands curling at her sides.

_Choke on it and die already, _she thought angrily, dragging her tongue across the bottom of her teeth, biting down on it in her restraint from saying the thought out loud.

"Yes, sir," she spat out after a few moments, looking away from him towards the bookcase for a few moments.

"I believe you have some anger issues," Calvin continued, glancing over at her, "something neither Lara or myself have taught you."

"Anger issues?" Grace asked slowly, running her hands across her knees slightly. She certainly was angry at the moment, after what he had said about the slap, but anger _issues_?

_The only issues I have involve fuckin' Calvin J. Candie and his fuckin' plantation. _

"You ever thought of takin' up Mandigo fightin'?" Calvin asked offhandedly, like what he had just suggested didn't involve watching grown men, _slaves_, forcing themselves to kill each other with their bare hands.

"N-No, I...I have never thought about doin' that," Grace said quickly, looking at him with wide eyes. Calvin let out a chuckle at her alarmed expression, raising his hands slightly.

"Now, I know what you are thinkin'," Calvin said, grin on his face, "the Mandigo business is a little messy, and I agree, it would be difficult seein' a woman takin' part in it, but you have no idea how satisfying it is to watch a fight. I believe it could help with your anger."

"I don't know if that would be the right thing for me, Papa," Grace said softly, completely shocked at what he was suggesting.

"Well, do think about it, Darlin'," Calvin said, "since you don't seem to be lookin' into gettin' married, it leaves me believing that when I pass on, you'll be the one runnin' the plantation and managing my Mandigo fighters. It would be wise you start takin' an interest in the family business."

"Of course," Grace said quickly, trying not to stutter, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Great," Calvin said, standing. Grace stood with him, itching to be out of the study and away from him, "now, it has been a long journey and I want to rest my tired eyes before supper."

"Of course, Papa," Grace said, giving him a smile that struggled to stay on her face.

"It's always great to see you, Gracie," Calvin said, placing a hand on her bruised cheek lightly, "we'll get you sorted out, don't you worry."

"...Thank you."

Grace watched as Calvin left the study, leaving her standing in the room by herself. Once he was gone, she let her facade fall and her mouth popped open slightly.

"Get me _sorted out_!?" she asked to nobody in particular, her hand moving up to her mouth, "he's the one who needs to be sorted out."

She paced back in forth, running over the things that had been said. If there was one thing she never wanted to be in control of, it was Candieland. Anger was no excuse to watch two people fight to the death for the entertainment of other people, it was a sick business and one that Grace wished Calvin would get out of. Her anger was never a problem, at least, it wasn't until recent years.

Still, no amount of death or fighting would give her any amount of relief. If anything, it would just add to the nightmares she has every now and then.

"There is no way Lara would approve of this..." she muttered to herself, "no proper lady would sit by and take enjoyment in such a brutal thing."

"Miss Grace?" a timid voice called out to her from the door, making Grace whip around and look at the speaker. One of the house slaves stood at the door, her hands folded in front of her as she looked at her. Grace noticed that a lot of the slaves seemed rather comfortable to look at her longer than Calvin or Lara, though the woman looked away after a few moments.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, Grace realizing that she must have seen her talking to herself.

"Oh, yes! Yes, everything is fine, Hilde, I'm sorry for keeping you from your work," Grace said quickly, giving her a small smile as she walked towards the door, Hilde looking up as she passed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Grace said, nodding her head, "do let me know when dinner is ready."

"Yes, Miss Grace."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here is Elijah's chapter, which follows script quite closely. Until Django and Schultz start getting mixed up with Calvin, it might be that way. Still, I do try and throw in some "original" scenes where I can. Anyway, here is is! **

**Warning: Due to the film's language and how close this fic will be following the movie at some points, the N-word will be used. I am simply using it for Canon, I do not in any way, shape, or form like the word, nor do I use it outside of this fic. I am willing to bump ratings if it bothers enough people, but for now I am putting this as fair warning.**

* * *

**Cooper's Gold**

**...**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

There were nights were Elijah lay awake, usually laying on his side and staring off into space, or on his back and looking up at the sky.

He couldn't exactly pin point where the insomnia came from, but when it did, there was no way he would be able to get any shut eye. During those nights, he would spend time planning, thinking about the current bounty he and King would be currently hunting, or he would pull out the small paper he keeps in his brown overcoat and read over the scribbled words there.

With a slight sigh, he sat up from his spot on the ground and reached out towards where his boots lay, abandoned, by the blanket we was using as a mattress. He could never sleep with the damn things on, anyway. Taking his time to flip each of them over, shaking out whatever little critter could have crawled into them, he glanced over towards the sleeping forms of King and Django. Elijah wasn't entirely too sure what King was going to do with the slave, but he trusted the older man and knew that he must have had an idea as to why he bought Django.

Django was rather quiet, he only spoke a handful of times during the ride towards Daughtrey, usually simple and quick answers to the questions King would ask him. Elijah picked up on the sense of...hostility Django had towards him, which was understandable. Elijah's father, Will Cooper, had been a somewhat infamous slave trader, most slaves were brought by his father on their way to Greenville. Elijah wanted nothing to do with the business, but at that time he had been his father's only son. It resulted in him showing his face around some of the slaves, more so the plantation owners.

Still, the past is the past.

He was rather ashamed of it, but he was trying to find some sense of redemption through this bounty hunting business, and Elijah couldn't have landed himself a better mentor than Dr. King Schultz.

Still, Django seemed to recognize him from somewhere, Elijah would catch him looking with a somewhat suspicious look on his face, though Elijah didn't try to force his companionship on Django. If anything, Elijah didn't force his friendship or company on _anybody_. He was never that social, anyway. Elijah just sat on his horse, brown eyes peering out from under the brim of his brown duster, his mouth naturally set in a frown, a few scars on his face from his battles. Though, he wasn't exactly the toughest looking fellow, he was lean but had a hidden strength to him.

With a sigh, he tossed his boot back onto the ground after giving it a good shake, his usually clean-shaven face darkened with dirt and grime, the starts of a moustache appearing just above his upper lip, something he hoped to get rid of soon. A bath would be great, too. At least his white undershirt, black vest, and brown trousers were...somewhat clean.

Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he leaned back on his blanket and closed his eyes, tucking his arm under his head and listened to the crackling of the slowly dying fire.

_Tomorrow'll be a better day, _Elijah thought to himself.

His eyes were closed, but he never really fell asleep.

* * *

The town of Daughtrey was like every other little town Elijah had rode through, he probably wouldn't have had to lived there his whole life to know where everything was, though the promise of an Inn was enough to put a small smile on his face. What Elijah wasn't used to was the gawking, how the townsfolk would stop in what they were doing to watch them go by, jaws slacked.

Or, more so, _Django_ got gawked at. He rode along, sitting tall on his horse, Tony, while King rode along in his waggon with the bobbing tooth on top, Elijah trailing a little bit behind the two of them because his temperamental horse didn't feel like being ridden that day.

"What is everybody staring at?" King asked Django, Elijah managing to get Mud to ride up along side them.

"Ain't nobody seen a nigger on a horse before," Django replied, Elijah glancing around at the faces of the people they passed, heading towards the Inn.

Once they reached their destination, Elijah hopped off his horse rather quickly and started to lead him towards the post, hitching him there as the horse pulled at the reigns slightly. Elijah, in his sleepless state, let out a frustrated growl, making sure the animal was tied down tight so he wouldn't run off. Mud seemed to calm slightly, though, letting out a snort.

"He doesn't like to be tied down much, doesn't he?" King asked, giving Mud a small grin as Elijah reached up to remove his hat, scratching at his black hair.

"He doesn't like _me_," Elijah muttered, following King and Django into the Inn.

"Nonsense," King said, "that horse is just as stubborn as you are. I doubt there could be a better horse for you."

Elijah didn't give a reply to that, though the small smile that crossed his face proved that he seemed to agree. He came to a stop beside King as he watched the Innkeeper working on a light above the table.

"Good morning, innkeeper!" King greeted cheerfully, "three beers for three weary travellers."

"Still a bit early," the innkeeper said, not turning around to address them as he spoke, "we won't be open for another hour or so. By then we will be serving breakfast-" he had finished what he was doing with the light and turned around partly to continue talking, but his expression changed to one of alarm when he saw them, "whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell do you think you are doing, boy? Get that nigger out of here!"

The light behind his head swayed with his sudden movement, hitting him in the back of the head as he waited for the three of them to react. Elijah took a glance towards King, raising his eyebrows slightly as Django continued to stare down the Innkeeper. The man jumped down from his table, Elijah stepping out of his way as he raised past them, probably going to fetch a lawmen to deal with them.

_So much for a bath and a bed, _Elijah thought to himself, walking towards a table and sat himself down, listening to King shout after the Innkeeper about getting the sheriff and not the marshal.

"Alas," King said as he walked back into the Inn, "we will have to act as our own bartender."

Django took a seat across from Elijah as King headed towards the bar, Elijah trying to stifle a yawn.

"What kind of dentist are you?" Django asked, looking over towards King, who let out a laugh as he started to pour them some beer.

"Despite that cart, I haven't practised dentistry in five years," he replied, "I practice a different kind of profession these days. Bounty hunting. Do you know what a bounty hunter is?"

"No."

Elijah glanced towards the window, checking for anything out there. He was getting a little more nervous, wondering where that innkeeper had ran off to. He glanced back as King approached their table, pausing to make a reprimanding noise about Django's hat being on the table, placing the beer down after he had removed it. Elijah pulled his beer towards himself, watching with mild interest as King started to explain to Django about bounty hunting.

"Well, in the way that the slave trade deals in human lives, bounty hunting deals in corpses," King said, taking a seat, "the state places a bounty on a man's dead, I track that man, I find that man, I kill that man, and after I have killed that man, I transfer his corpse back to the authorities."

"Not exactly in that order," Elijah muttered, taking a swig from his drink.

"Ah, yes, well once I have found the authorities, I show them that corpse to prove that, yes, I have indeed killed him and at that point the authorities pay me the bounty," King said, "So, like slavery, it is a flesh-for-cash business."

"What is a bounty?" Django asked, Elijah taking another slightly anxious glance towards the window.

King paused after taking a drink, "it's like a reward."

"You kill people and they give you a reward?" Django asked, sounding a little disbelieving. Phrased like that, Elijah couldn't help but give a little amused smile. From that stand point, Django's point of view seemed reasonable.

"Certain people, yeah," King said with a nod.

Django paused, glancing over towards Elijah, "Bad people?"

"Ah, the badder they are the bigger the reward," King said, smiling slightly. Django looked between the two of them, looking a little unsure still.

"The both of you are bounty hunters?"

"Well, I'm a seasoned bounty hunter," King said, then gestured towards Elijah, "he is more of an...apprentice."

"Apprentice?" Elijah asked, sounding vaguely offended, "I've been with you for years."

"You are still learning things from me, aren't you?" King asked, giving him a smile, "of course, I mean that in the highest respect. You have certainly kept trouble off my back as I have yours."

"Of course," Elijah muttered, taking another swig from his beer.

"Now," King said, turning his attention back to Django, "this brings me to you. I'm at a bit of a quandary when it comes to you. One one hand, I despise slavery. One the other hand, I need your help, and if you are not in a position to refuse, the better. So, for the time being, I am going to make this slave malarkey work for my benefit. But, still, having said that...I feel guilty. So, I would like the two of us to enter into an agreement. I'm looking for the Brittle brothers, however, at this endeavour I am at a slight disadvantage, in so far as, I do not know what they look like. But you do, don't you?"

Django seemed to get a somewhat clouded look on his face, Elijah could see something dark brewing in the young man. After a few moments, he started to nod.

"I know that they look like, alright," Django said.

"So, here is our agreement, you travel with me until-"

"Where are we goin'?" Django asked, Elijah hearing some commotion outside.

"Schultz..." Elijah started, glancing towards him with raised eyebrows.

"I'm aware, Elijah," King said, waving him off slightly as he continued, "I heard that at least two of them are overseeing up in Gatlinburg, but I don't know where. That means we visit every plantation in Gatlinburg until we find them, you point them out, and I kill them. You do that, I agree to give you your freedom, Twenty-five dollars per Brittle Brother, that's seventy-five dollars...and as if on cue, here comes the sheriff."

Elijah stood as the burly looking sheriff walked into the inn, pausing at the door as he took in the scene. He chuckled slightly, looking at each of them.

"Okay, boys, fun's over. Come on out," he said, turning and stepping out of the inn. Elijah sighed slightly, following out after the sheriff with King and Django following. He watched as the sheriff started to address the crowd forming around the Inn.

"Alright, folks, calm down. Go about your business, these jokers will be gone soon," he turned to look back at the three men standing just outside the Inn, "Now, why do y'all want to come into my town and start trouble? Scare all these nice people?" he asked, Elijah watching as King started to approach him, knowing the look on the older bounty hunter's face all too well.

"You ain't got nothin' better to do than show up in _Bill Sharp's_ town and show your _ass_-"

The sheriff's speech was cut short when King produced a small pistol from inside his coat's sleeve, putting a bullet into the sheriff's belly with a loud _pop_ that made the crowd, and Django, jump in surprise. Elijah was a little surprised that King actually had a bounty in this town, he hadn't said anything to him. Though, much more has happened before with much less of a warning.

"What did you do to our sheriff?" someone from the crowd called out, King not answering as he walked around to the head of the groaning sheriff, silencing him with a shot to the head that made a woman faint and the crowd scatter with some screams.

King turned back towards in Innkeeper, who was staring at the dead sheriff with wide eyes.

"Now you can go get the marshal," King said, watching as he took off running. He turned back towards Django and Elijah with a smile, Elijah's expression borderline irritated and Django's shocked.

"Shall we wait inside?" he asked, walking towards the two of them to move them back inside the Inn.

"Can't we just leave?" Django asked as King started to push them back inside.

"No," King said, gesturing that he go back inside, "after you."

* * *

It wasn't long before more people started to show up outside the saloon, most of them armed. Elijah looked back towards King as he removed his pistol from its holster, tossing it onto the table beside King's weapons.

"The one in your boot as well," King said, "we need to show some good will with the marshal."

"Oh, so you don't plan on shootin' this one as well?" Elijah asked, bending down and pulled out a small pistol from inside a pouch he had cut in his boot, placing it on the table.

"No, he is the one we want to be talking with after what happened to the sheriff," King said, glancing towards Elijah, "though, with your rather fowl mood today, it would be best if _you_ didn't."

"You are the one who has a way with words," Elijah muttered bitterly, glancing over towards Django, who was peering out a window at the commotion.

"Did you happen to get any rest last night?" King asked, removing his coat.

"Mind your own damn business!" Elijah snapped, giving him a glare, "you dragged me into a bounty without so much as a warnin', and to top it all off my damn horse is actin' up. You don't get to ask me how I fuckin' slept."

"I'll take that as a no, then," King said, Elijah shaking his head as he started to walk away from him.

"You in the sloon!" a new voice called in from outside the building, Elijah freezing as Django stepped back from the window, "we got a hundred rifles pointed every which way out of that building! You got one chance to get out of this alive! You, your nigger, and your lackey come out of there with your hands on your heads, and I mean _right now_!"

"Is this the marshal I have the pleasure of addressing?" King called back, Elijah not too sure about this whole thing. He was starting to regret removing all his weapons.

"Yes, it is. I am U.S. Marshal Gill Tatum."

"Wunderbar!" King said, "My associate and I have relieved ourselves of all weapons and, just as you have instructed, I am ready to step outside with my hands above my head. I trust as a representative of the justice system of the United States of America, I shant be shot down in the street, by either you or your deputies, before I have had my day in court!"

"You mean like you did our sheriff?" the marshal asked, "shot him down like a dog in the street!"

"Yes! That is _exactly_ what I mean! Do I have your word as a lawman not to be shot down like a dog in the street?"

"Well," the marshal started, "as much as we would all enjoy seein' something like that, nobody cheats the hangman in my town."

"Fair enough, marshal! Here we come," King said, then turned to Django and Elijah, "now, things are a little tense out there, so don't make any abrupt movements and let me do the talking."

With his hands raised above his head, Elijah followed King and Django out onto the porch of the Inn, taking notice of all the rifle barrels pointed at them. He'd had guns pointed at him many times before, but, for some reason, this time it made him sweat slightly.

"You unarmed?" Marshal Gill asked, Elijah turning his attention away from the guns pointed at them and on the man speaking to them.

"Indeed we are," King said, "now, may I address you, marshal, your deputies, and apparently the entire town of Daughtrey, as to what just occurred?"

"Go on," the marshal said, Elijah shifting slightly as he tried to keep his hands high enough over his head.

"My name is Dr. King Schultz, and, like yourself marshal, I am a servant of the court. That man laying dead in the dirt, which the good people of Daughtrey thought good enough to elect as their sheriff, by the name of Bill Sharp, is actually a wanted outlaw named Willard Peck, who has a price on his head of two hundred dollars," he said, pausing, "now, that's two hundred dollars, dead or alive."

"The hell you say!"

"I'm aware this is probably disconcerting news, but I am willing to wager that this man was elected sheriff in the past...two years?" King continued, the marshal nodding, "I know this because three years ago he was wrestling cattle from The B.C. Corrigan Cattle Company of Lubbock, Texas." King waved the paper he held over his head slightly, "Now this is a warrant made out by circuit court Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk of Austin, Texas. You are encouraged to wire him. He will back up who I am, and who your dear departed sheriff _was_. In other words, marshal, you owe me two hundred dollars."

Elijah started to lower his hands as the people around them started to talk quietly amongst themselves, gingerly letting his arms rest at his sides. A sense of relaxation started to come over him as the tension started to die down.

He took a glance towards King, who seemed satisfied with how everything went down, Elijah couldn't blame him. He certainly knew what he was doing, Elijah was just wishing for some downtime.

Though, with their new...partner, it seemed like things wouldn't be slowing down for a while.


End file.
